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THE JOLLY 
LITTLE CLOWN 











































































‘ 























































































The little clown turned a sudden somersault that set them both to laughing, 


From Story of the Jolly Little Clown 


4 






















THE 

JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 

AND OTHER STORIES 

BY 


ELEANOR FAIRCHILD PEASE 



MILDRED LYON ITETHERINGTON 


yusr RTCJirBOOKS " 1 

ALBERT WHITMAN COMPANY 
CHICAGO US. A. 


5 


C-'of ^ 



A ' 

The Jolly Little Clown 

Copyright, 1927 
By Albert Whitman & Company 




"A JUST RIGHT BOOK” 
Printed in the U. S. A. 


6 

OCT-3’27 


©Cl ft 1004585 - Q_ 


Acknowledgment 

The Author and Publishers wish to express their thanks to 
the following for their permission to use these stories: 

To The Pilgrim Press for permission to use: 

How Peter Rode Into the Village 
Runaway Buster Breeze 
The Woodbine and the Pine 
The Disappearing Shears; 

To Youth’s Companion for permission to use: 

Brentilda’s Goldfinch 

The Little Wooden Man 

The Water Wheel in the Wood ; 

To D. C. Cook Publishing Company for permission to use: 
The Scarlet Cloak 
Wishety Washety Robinet; 

And to John Martin’s Book for permission to use: 

The Jolly Little Clown. 


7 



8 













Introduction 

This collection of short stories by Eleanor Fairchild Pease 
represents some of the most entertaining and profitable con¬ 
tributions to the pages of various story magazines for children 
in recent years. For that reason they deserve to receive a more 
permanent form of existence than that of a magazine file. 
Consequently they have been collected into this book with 
appropriate and charming illustrations by Mildred Lyon 
Hetherington. 

Here the reader will find exactly related the history of a 
mysterious and magical scarlet cloak that grew or shrunk 
according to the actions of its wearer; here the reader will 
learn how Peter, desiring to see the Prince ride by, almost 
missed his opportunity and yet in a spectacular manner rode 
into the village. 

Here also the reader will learn the happy fate of a jolly 
little wooden clown that brought joy to the heart of a cripple, 
along with many other interesting facts and fancies. 


9 




Contents 


Page 


Introduction. 9 

The Jolly Little Clown. 17 

Brentilda’s Goldfinch . 32 

The Scarlet Cloak . 42 

The Disappearing Shears. 56 

How Peter Rode Into the Village. 65 

The Little Wooden Man. 75 

The Water Wheel in the Wood. 85 

Wishety Washety Robinet. 95 

Runaway Buster Breeze.113 

The Woodbine and the Pine.121 



11 
























List of Illustrations 


Page 


The little clown turned a sudden somersault that set 

them both to laughing.Frontispiece 

“X should like to buy a toy with this!”. 16 

The gentleman and the bey looked eagerly at the shelves. 22 

So she climbed up on a wooden stool and brought him down. 23 

“Why bless my soul! It’s the little wooden clown”. 27 

There stood a little boy and a fine gentleman holding a basket... 29 

At her side was old Huldah. 33 

“Take this woman to the castle”. 35 

“See, Huldah,” she cried. 37 

“For two days I have been alone”. 39 

In his own chamber he paraded back and forth. 45 

He drew his cloak haughtily aside. 47 

The gorgeous cloak had shrunk so suddenly that it was nothing 

but a tight little jacket. 49 

“Oh, poor little one,” said the squire. 53 

She had brought home some goods for her little girl. 59 

The little girl puckered her forehead. 61 

She rushed to the waste-basket. 62 

“Oh, Peter,” they called, “come here”. 66 

They were barking at an old man. 68 


12 




















List of Illustrations—Continued 

Page 

He caught up with the old man. 71 

He was kissing the old man’s hand. 73 

He was riding on the white horse before the prince. 74 

The little wooden man on the peak of the barn gable spun round 

and round . 76 

Two children looked out of the window.. 77 

He painted the figure. 79 

He blew long and steadily. 82 

“What a wind!” said the people. . 83 

The children amused themselves by tying strings to chips and sail¬ 
ing the little boats. 87 

“Last winter we drank here”. 90 

“Poor little wheel,” he said. 91 

But the innkeeper looked at his fine suit. 97 

And while they ate they talked.101 

For two days the prince washed and sang as hard as he could.. . .105 

Only demanding that his message be taken to the king.109 

Just then Mother Wind was called away.115 

“Oh, oh, my nice clean tablecloth!” she cried.116 

“I’ll blow his pinwheel,” said Buster Breeze.117 

She had to cling to the fence.118 

“Oh, look at the pretty, pretty pine tree!”.125 


13 








































































































































































THE JOLLY 
LITTLE CLOWN 


15 



u l should like to buy a toy with this.” 


16 




























































































































































CLOWN 

m 


In an old, old city, there is an old, old 
street, very narrow and crooked and dark. 
The houses are old and crooked too, and lean 
toward one another as if their upper stories 
were whispering secrets. In the oldest and 
tallest one of these houses lives the old toy- 
maker. Over the narrow doorway is his sign, 
which rattles and creaks and squeaks in the 
wind. Just inside sits the old toymaker, him¬ 
self, whittling and carving and polishing 
pieces of wood and making them into play¬ 
things that children love. 

One day the old toymaker picked up a 
piece of fine white wood. 

17 













18 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“Aha,” said he, “this is so white and fine 
and smooth I must make something very 
special from this piece of wood, something 
very jolly, something that will make a child 
laugh and laugh.” 

He took his sharp knife and cut into the 
wood. As he carved he thought of a travel¬ 
ling show he had seen when he was a very 
little boy. There had been a clown, the 
funniest clown ever seen, who jumped and 
pranced and turned somersaults until the 
small boy that the toymaker had been held 
his sides as he laughed to keep them from 
hurting. He had laughed so hard that the 
tears rolled off his cheeks and dampened his 
ruffled white collar. 

“I will carve out a clown. He shall dance 
and prance and turn somersaults,” said the 
toymaker. 

So he whittled and carved; and a little 
clown grew out of the white, fine wood. As 
he worked, the old man wondered what child 
should have the clown. He knew many chil¬ 
dren, but somehow the child that should 
laugh at this little clown he could not think 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


19 


of. Then, one day when the weather was 
very cold, there came a little lady into his 
shop. She was not old, and she was not 
young, and she looked very, very tired. She 
laid a tiny copper piece on his bench. 

“I should like to buy a toy with this,” she 
said. 

The toymaker looked at the little lady’s 
tired face. 

“For what child do you want this toy?” 
he asked. “You live on the top floor of this 
house, I know, but I have never seen a child 
with you.” 

“It is my little son,” said the lady, “and 
you have never seen him because he cannot 
run up and down stairs, but must stay in the 
room all day. He was sick when he was a 
baby and his legs never grew strong. I want 
something that will make him laugh and be 
happy.” 

Then the toymaker knew for whom he 
was making the little clown. 

“If he can wait a few days, I shall have 
something ready for him,” he said. And he 
set to work once more, whistling and hum- 





20 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


ming over his work. “You are going to be 
funny,” he said to the little clown. “You will 
make this sick child laugh when you jump 
and dance and wave your arms around and 
nod your head.” 

The little clown grew and grew out of the 
wood. From the very first his face was jolly. 
He seemed to know he was meant to be 
funny. 

In a few days it would be Christmas. 
People were hanging evergreen ropes over 
their doorways and wreaths in their win¬ 
dows, though you could scarcely see them for 
the thick white frost. The houses were full 
of steam from plum puddings and sweet with 
the smell of spices. No wonder the children 
staid near the kitchens. 

The toymaker was interrupted so often by 
people coming to buy toys that he feared 
sometimes the little clown would not be 
finished. But at last it was done. The little 
clown’s coat was painted white and it had 
black buttons down the front. He had red 
slippers and a pointed blue cap. His face 
was as white as his coat and the red laughing 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


21 


lines made his smile very broad and set his 
eyes a-twinkle. He had springs in him to 
make him dance and prance as though he 
were alive, and when he was wound up, he 
could turn a somersault. While he danced 
and pranced, anyone would almost stake a 
fortune on it that his smile grew broader and 
his eyes twinkled more merrily. Anyone 
would have laughed just to look at him. 

It was the day before Christmas. The old 
toymaker put the little clown on a high 
shelf and went out to deliver some toys at 
the far end of the town. He told the old lady 
who kept house for him that he would be 
back in an hour. 

He had hardly left the house when a gay 
coach rumbled down the cobbled street sway¬ 
ing and bouncing from side to side, and 
stopped before the toymaker’s shop. Out 
stepped a little boy and a fine gentleman. 
They rang the bell of the shop and entered. 

“We have come to buy some toys,” they 
told the old housekeeper. 

“The toymaker is out,” said she, “but I 
can sell you anything you wish, for his toys 



22 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOW IS 


have the prices marked on them.” 

The gentleman and the boy looked 
eagerly at the shelves. They chose sets of gay 
wooden soldiers and dancing dolls with 
smiles that never came off; wooden monkeys 
that clambered up and down painted sticks; 
and wooden dogs whose heads nodded 
and tails wagged. The old woman hob¬ 
bled busily back and forth. Soon there 
would be nothing left on 
the toymaker’s shelves. 
She thought of the coins 
that would rattle in his 
money box. 

“I think that is all,” 
the gentleman was say¬ 
ing, but the boy cried 
out, “Oh no! See, we 
must have that jolly 
little clown up there, oh 
we must have him.” And 
he pointed up to where 
the little clown lay on 
„. , ... the topmost shelf. 

i he gentleman and the boy 

looked eagerly at the shelves. Now the old woman 







THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


23 



did not know one 
toy from another. 

The little clown 
meant no more to 
her than any of the others. So 
she climbed up on a wooden 
stool and brought him down. 
She turned him this way and 
that. “He is not marked,” she 
murmured to herself, “but 
surely he is the finest toy the 
old man ever turned out. A 
gold piece would not be too 
much for him.” She laid him 
down on the counter and said 
he was worth a gold piece. 

Surely the little 
c 1 o w n’s broad smile 
grew dimmer then as the 
gold piece rattled on the 
counter. Oh, if only the 
old toymaker would 
come back! 

But he didn’t come 


So she climbed up on a wooden 
stool and brought him down. 


and the toy was 
wrapped up with the rest of the purchases. 







24 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


The gentleman and the boy bowed politely to 
the old housekeeper and entered their coach, 
while all the children on the street stared at 
them with open mouths and shining eyes. 
Seldom did such grandeur come their way. 

And then the old toymaker came home. 

“See,” said the old housekeeper, showing 
him the money box filled with jingling coins, 
“a gentleman came in a great coach and 
bought everything on your shelves. The lit¬ 
tle clown was not marked so I charged a gold 
piece for him. He was worth it.” 

The old toymaker stood as though he had 
been turned to stone. 

“What!” he exclaimed. “You sold the 
little clown?” 

He strode to the cupboard and looked up 
at the high shelf. It was empty. The clown 
was gone, and there was no time left in which 
to make another for the sick child. But he was 
a kind man and so he did not blame the old 
woman, for she had not known about the lit¬ 
tle clown. It had been his secret. He had 
made it for the child on the top floor. Now 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


25 


some child with many, many other toys 
would have it and within a week the little 
clown would be broken and cast aside as like 
as not. The old toymaker’s heart was sore. 

Suddenly the bell of the shop jingled and 
in walked the little lady who lived on the top 
floor. The toymaker looked at her sadly. 

“I am very sorry,” he said, “but through 
a mistake the toy I carved for your child was 
sold.” As he spoke, however, he suddenly re¬ 
membered a little wooden dog that he had 
made and put away because he was not quite 
pleased with it. It would be much better 
than nothing. 

“You may have this,” he said. “It is a 
poor substitute for the toy I made for him, 
and, wait” he reached into his money box 
and held out a gold piece, “Take this too.” 

The little lady took the wooden dog, and 
slipped the gold piece into her pocket almost 
weeping for joy over them. 

“I wish you a happy Christmas,” she said. 
“If you have time to come up to our little 
home to-morrow, I will give you some 
Christmas pudding.” 




26 THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 

But the toymaker could not bear to think 
of seeing the child without the little clown 
that was to have made him happy, so he did 
not go upstairs the next day, nor at all. 
Christmas passed and New Year’s Day and 
soon the cold shortest month had passed, too. 
The snow was melting. The sun shone with 
a soft and misty glow, and the wind was 
damp and warm. Spring was coming. 

One day the old toymaker took his broom 
of twigs and stepped out to sweep the litter 
of damp leaves and dirt and melting snow 
from his dooryard. He meant to see whether 
the vine that grew up on the old house was 
sending out any green shoots. As he whisked 
and whisked, there came a sudden shout 
from above him, a rattle and a clatter, and a 
small wooden thing dropped at his feet. The 
old man stared at it, scarcely believing his 
eyes. 

“What!” said he. “Why bless my soul! 
It’s the little wooden clown.” He picked it 
up and smiled tenderly as though he had 
found an old friend or a dear child. But some 
one above was shouting, “Hey, hey, he’s 











. 

* 


27 






















28 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


mine! He fell out of the window. Oh please 
bring him up to me.” 

The toymaker hobbled upstairs as fast as 
his stiff old legs could carry him. All the 
way he kept saying, “Now how on earth did 
the little clown find his way to this child’s 
home?” 

When he reached the top floor and opened 
the door, he saw the child standing there 
with the tears still wet on his cheeks, hold¬ 
ing out his hand for the little clown. Beside 
him on the floor lay a pair of crutches, 
dropped, forgotten. Then the old toymaker 
knew that this was the child he had made the 
toy for. 

No, the little wooden clown was not 
harmed by his fall. The old man pressed the 
spring and made him dance and turn a som¬ 
ersault. He jigged and bobbed his head and 
did all his funny tricks, and as he danced the 
child laughed and laughed. But suddenly he 
stopped and turned to the old man. 

“But how did you know where to find the 
spring that makes him dance?” he asked. “It 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


29 



There stood a little boy and a fine gentleman holding a basket. 


took me days and days to find it, and then it 
happened just by chance.” 

“Because,” said the old man, “it was I 
who made him. I made him for you, but 
what I am wondering is how he got to you.” 

“Oh,” answered the child, his eyes shin¬ 
ing as he remembered the day, “it was 
Christmas and my mother and I were here 
alone. We heard footsteps on the stairs, 
coming up, up until they reached this floor. 
Then they stopped at this door. There was 
a knock and when my mother opened the 
door, there stood a little boy and a fine gen¬ 
tleman holding a basket. It was full of sweet¬ 
meats, and fruits, red apples and yellow 










30 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



oranges, and in the midst of it sat this jolly 
little clown. Did you not see them? My 
mother said the gentleman and the boy drove 
down the street in a grand gilt coach and left 
toys and good things for all the children who 
had not any. 

“Ever since I have had the little clown I 
have been getting better and better. My 
mother says it was the gold piece that helped, 
but I say it was the little clown, because 







THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


31 


whenever he dances and turns somersaults I 
want to do the same. And to-morrow I am 
going to walk out for the first time!” 

The tears were rolling down the old man’s 
cheeks, too. He felt that he had never been 
happier in his life, and as he leaned down to 
kiss the child’s pink cheek, the little clown 
turned a sudden somersault that set them 
both to laughing. 

—Used by permission “John Martin s Book." 







To no avail had Brentilde, the haughty 
one, youngest of seven proud princesses, 
stormed and wept and scolded for a week. 
The wicker cage in which her goldfinch had 
chirped and sung cheerily for so long still 
hung silent and deserted. Its small occu¬ 
pant, the only thing Brentilde loved, was 
gone. 

“I will find my goldfinch!” she cried at 
last. “This very day I shall begin my quest.” 

At noon she rode forth from the castle. 
At her side was old Huldah, the patient one, 
her faithful nurse. Four retainers followed 
her. 

Through valleys and over rocky hills they 
rode, and evening found them entering a for- 


32 







THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


33 



At her side was old Huldah. 


est by a narrow path. Brentilde drooped 
wearily. All the afternoon she had strained 
her eyes for the sight of a yellow wing and 
her ears for the sound of a familiar song. 
Suddenly she drew rein. Across the path, 
blocking it so that she could not pass, was a 
cart filled with fagots. One wheel was 
broken, and the peasant was vainly trying 
to repair it. 

“Out of my way!” ordered Brentilde 
sharply. The peasant looked at her and. 
doffing his cap, bowed. 




34 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“My cart is broken, my lady. In a mo¬ 
ment I will move it.” He struggled to move 
the heavy-laden cart to one side. 

Brentilde, impatient at the delay, turned 
angrily. “Take him to the castle. He shall 
know that it is Brentilde whom he delays. 
My quest shall not be hindered by such as 
he. Keep him until my return!” 

Dismounting, a retainer seized the peas¬ 
ant. The other three shoved the cart aside, 
and Brentilde rode on. 

A tiny ray of light glimmered through 
the forest. “A place to sleep and eat,” she 
said. “We will stay here.” 

It was a humble cottage, but food and 
shelter for the night were gladly given them 
by the old woman who lived there. Before 
Brentilde arose the next morning, she heard 
the clatter of shuttles and the sound of sing¬ 
ing as the old woman worked at her loom. 
And when she had dressed, she found the 
old woman, busily at work on a piece of 
tapestry. Brentilde watched her for a 
moment. 

“This is wonderful!” she cried at last. 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


35 



“Take this woman to the castle” 


“You should not be here. We need such 
tapestries in my father’s castle. You shall 
be sent there.” 

The old woman looked up in alarm. “Your 
Highness, it is impossible for me to go from 
here, I must do my work here.” 

Brentilde raised her head haughtily, “Im¬ 
possible?” she blazed. “Nothing is impos¬ 
sible with me. Sirrah!” A retainer appeared. 

“Take this woman to the castle. Here¬ 
after she shall work there.” 

The horses were saddled, and Brentilde 
resumed her quest, accompanied by Huldali 
and the two retainers. She frowned as the 
sound of the old woman s sobbing came to 
her ears. 









36 THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 

On they journeyed toward 
the village that lay to the 
south of them. “Shall I find 
my pretty to-day?” she mur¬ 
mured, gazing upward into 
the green arch of the trees. 
“Perhaps in this village I shall 
find him.” 

The sun’s rays were blaz¬ 
ing straight down upon them 
when they entered the village. 
In the square a group of little 
ones were playing. As Brentilde rode in 
among them a brightly colored ball was 
tossed into the air before her. Her horse 
reared. Brentilde caught at her saddle, but 
the narrow escape aroused once more her 
smouldering anger. The children clung 
frightened and silent to one another. 

“Who threw that ball?” Brentilde de¬ 
manded as she looked from one to another. 
A moment passed and a child straightened 
up. “The ball is mine.” 

“So? You shall be taught what it means 
to frighten a princess. Take him!” she cried. 









THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


37 


“He shall go to the castle, to await my re¬ 
turn.” 

She spurred her horse on, and clattered 
through the village, followed by her one re¬ 
maining retainer and Huldah. 

On the outskirts of the village was a tiny 
vine-clad house. It differed little from the 
other houses of the villages, but Brentilde’s 
searching eyes lighted as they fell on a 
wicker cage that hung from the trellis above 
the door. 

“See, Huldah!” she cried, pointing to it. 
“Perhaps here my 
quest will have an 
end.” 

She leaped from 
her horse and hur¬ 
ried up the graveled 
path that led to the 
cottage door. 

Standing on tip¬ 
toe, she peeped 
breathlessly into the 
wicker cage. At first 
it seemed as empty 



“See, Huldah” she cried. 








38 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


as the cage that hung so silently in her room, 
but as she looked again a sob burst from 
her throat. 

In the bottom of the cage lay a goldfinch. 
Its beak was open. The water cup in the 
cage was dry, the last seed had been eaten, 
and the hot sun shone pitilessly down upon 
the unhappy bird. 

“Oh, my pretty, they have killed you!” 
sobbed Brentilde. Then her cry was echoed 
by another, which came from inside the cot¬ 
tage. Brentilde went in through the open 
door. On a pallet lay a child. Wide-eyed, he 
gazed at her. 

“Is he dead?” he cried. “I could not care 
for him. For two days I have been alone. My 
father did not come home last night. He 
gathers fagots and brings home food for my 
goldfinch. And Dame Elsa, who sweeps the 
house and cleans the cage, she has not been 
here, and the child who brings him water. 
Where are they? Have they let him die?” 

He turned his face away, but Brentilde 
saw the tears slipping down his white cheeks 
and something new stirred within her heart. 








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“For two days I have been alone” 


39 




















































































40 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“Your father? Did you say he is a wood 
gatherer?” she asked almost fearfully. 

“Oh, yes! It was just a week ago that he 
found the goldfinch caught by a horsehair 
and held a prisoner in a bough. He loosened 
him and brought him home to make me 
happy.” 

“But Dame Elsa, who is she?” 

“She comes to care for me each morning. 
She is a tapestry weaver and lives on the far 
side of the village. And since the goldfinch 
came to make me happy she cares for him, 
too, and cleans his cage.” 

“And the child who brings the water?” 

“Oh, a sweeter child never lived, so brave 
and true! Each day he carries water from 
the spring and fills the cup beside my bed 
and fills the goldfinch’s water cup. Is it 
empty now? The heat dries it up so soon! 
Has my pet died?” 

Suddenly Brentilde, the haughty, young¬ 
est of seven proud princesses, weeping tears 
of sorrow and pity and shame, threw herself 
down beside the child. “Oh, if he is dead it is 
I who have killed him in my anger and self- 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


41 

ishness—I who loved him so!” So she wailed 
aloud. 

“Hark!” cried the child on the pallet. 

Brentilde raised her head. A faint chirp 
sounded from without. She rose and ran 
toward the cage. The goldfinch fluttered a 
wing faintly. 

“O Huldah, go quickly! Bring water from 
the spring! The bird is not dead. And you,” 
she said to the fourth retainer, “return with 
all haste to the castle and say that I have 
sent for the wood gatherer and Dame Elsa 
and the little child.” 

Then she took the pretty, gasping bird 
into her hand and crooned tenderly to it. 
“My pretty, my pretty, you shall not die; you 
shall live to make this little child happy, as 
I from this day shall live to make others 
happy!” 

_ Used by permission of Youth's Companion. 




THE SCARLET CLOAK 


“It is of no use,” sighed the royal uncle. 
“I cannot cure him of his selfishness, he may 
as well go back to his home again.” Then the 
wise men and the courtiers and the knights 
and squires and pages all shook their heads 
and looked gloomily at the royal little boy 
who stood pouting at a window. 

“I want the boy’s pigeons and I will have 
them,” he shouted, stamping his royal foot 
on the cold stone floor so that his toes tingled 
and he wished he had not stamped so hard. 

“He is the charcoal burner’s boy and the 
pigeons are all he has. We will buy you 
others,” said one of the wise men. 

“If I cannot have these I will go home,” 
said the prince. 

“Very well then,” said the royal uncle. 
“You shall go home. You may start tomor¬ 
row morning.” 

The royal little boy was used to having 

42 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


43 


everything he shouted for and doing every¬ 
thing he pleased but this surprised him. In 
fact he was so astonished that he could find 
absolutely nothing to say and while he stood 
there thinking of something that would fit 
the occasion the court filed out of the audi¬ 
ence chamber and left him by the window, 
alone, except for his little squire who now 
tiptoed silently to him and waited for him to 
go. 

That night the royal uncle sent for the 
royal little boy. 

“You have been here two months now 
and winter is coming on. You will need a 
warmer cloak for your homeward journey 
than any you have with you, for the ride is 
long and cold. You may choose a cloak from 
my wardrobe.” So saying he swung open 
the door of a great oaken wardrobe where 
hung cloaks of every hue and size and tex¬ 
ture, velvet and silk, fur trimmed and gold 
embroidered. The prince stepped back with 
a cry of joy. Then he went from one to 
another, feeling of this one, holding out that 
one. He touched a soft blue velvet wrap. 




44 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“That one is very fine and warm,” said 
the royal uncle. 

“But I want a larger one,” said the prince. 
He was looking for the very best one there. 
At last he pulled out a long cloak of beautiful 
scarlet velvet. The neck and sleeves were 
bordered with the softest ermine and heavy 
gold embroidery adorned its glistening folds. 

“I will take this one,” said the prince 
aloud, adding to himself, “it is the best one 
here.” 

“It will be very heavy and long and hard 
to wear,” said the royal uncle, “however, I 
will keep my word. You may have it and I 
hope it will do you as much good, as it has 
others.” 

The prince draped the heavy cloak about 
him and trailed out of the room proudly, 
quite forgetting to thank his uncle for the 
lovely gift. In his own chamber he paraded 
back and forth while his little squire watched 
him with shining eyes. 

“It is very lovely,” said the little squire. 
“I never had anything so fine. I would like 
to try it on sometime.” 






In his own chamber 


he paraded 


back and forth. 


45 


















































































46 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“Only royal persons can wear anything 
as fine as this,” said the prince grandly, turn¬ 
ing to watch the beautiful folds drag after 
him, but as the squire watched him the cloak 
seemed to shrink a bit. 

“It is very strange,” he said, “but the 
longer I wear this, the lighter it grows, I 
must be getting used to its weight.” 

The next morning the royal little boy 
set out for his own home which was many 
leagues away. The portcullis was raised with 
a great clanking and the drawbridge let down 
amid the rattling of chains, and he rode from 
his uncle’s castle with a great train of soldiers 
and knights to a blare of trumpets that made 
the people in the town below run to their 
doors and crowd out into the streets to see 
the procession. The prince felt too grand for 
words as he sat on his horse with the gorge¬ 
ous scarlet cloak hanging about him. A lit¬ 
tle girl reached out to touch the soft velvet 
as he passed, but he drew his cloak haughtily 
aside for fear her little fingers might soil it. 

The little squire riding beside him saw 
with wonder that the beautiful cloak that had 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


47 



He drew his cloak haughtily aside. 


swept the ground now cleared the ground by 
almost a foot’s breadth. 

The day was raw and cold. Across a blue 
sky dark snow clouds passed, now darken¬ 
ing the sun and giving everything a grayish 
cast, now pushing onward and leaving the 
landscape flooded with a blinding sunlight 
which gave no warmth. 

The little squire’s nose was red from cold. 
He drew off his gauntlets and blew on his 
fingers. 

“It is very cold,” he chattered. “I wish I 
had brought a warm cloak to wear.” 












THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


48 



The prince drew his cloak 
more tightly about him. “I do 
not feel the cold,” he said. “It 
is silly to complain about little 
discomforts.” Suddenly he felt 
a strange sensation. The wind 
blew coldly on his thin little 
legs. He looked down. The 
beautiful scarlet cloak which 
had hung about him almost to 
the ground had shrunk so that 
it reached just below his knees. 

“What is this?” he shouted angrily. 
“What kind of a cloak has my 
uncle given me? A fine present 
indeed!” No one answered. There 
was nothing to say, although all 
wondered at the cloak which 
seemed bewitched. 

At noon they stopped beside 
the road for a bite to eat. The 
soldiers built a fire and everyone 
crowded about it to warm his 
fingers. An old man came totter¬ 
ing down the road. He was bent 






THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


49 



The gorgeous cloak had shrunk so suddenly that it was nothing but a tight 
little red jacket. 


and feeble and his face was blue with cold. 
At sight of the fire he stopped, then stepped 
closer. 

The little squire stepped aside to make 
room, but the prince spread out in the space 
he left. “He can warm himself here after we 
have gone,” he said, but as he finished he 
gave a loud cry that startled those about him, 
and frightened not a few. They stared at 
him in amazement. The gorgeous scarlet 
cloak had shrunk so suddenly about the 
prince that it was nothing but a tight little 










50 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


red jacket and the soft white ermine now 
looked like little bands of rabbit skin. 

“I won’t wear it,” shouted the prince, “It 
is bewitched,” and he tore it off. But at the 
same moment the wind blew with an icy 
blast and he shivered pitifully. 

“The cloak is all right if the right person 
wears it,” said a hoarse voice presently. 
Everyone looked around. It was the old man 
speaking. He was rubbing his hands together 
and blowing on them. The little squire 
stepped aside and pushed the old man toward 
the fire. 

“Who is the right person?” demanded the 
prince after a moment’s wonder. 

“That is hard to say,” said the old man, 
“but it is easy to see that you are not.” 

The prince’s anger at this was overcome 
by curiosity. He flung the queer little red 
jacket about the squire’s shoulders. 

“Are you the right one?” he asked. 

Wonder of wonders! The little red jacket 
was spreading and lengthening into the beau¬ 
tiful cloak again, edged with softest ermine. 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


51 


“Here, give it to me, quick!” cried the 
prince, snatching it back and throwing it 
around himself. But alas, the great cloak 
suddenly shrunk so tight about him that he 
could scarcely breathe and to make matters 
worse some of the soldiers laughed. The 
prince began to cry with mortification. He 
looked very funny in the tight little jacket 
with thin bands of moth eaten fur on it. He 
angrily ordered the soldiers to ride on, far 
ahead. Then he commanded the knights to 
ride behind him. So mounting his horse he 
called to his little squire and they rode off 
together. 

Now they were riding through a sad 
country where the harvests had failed and 
and the people were starving. They saw 
many people looking at them with sorrowful 
eyes. 

“I wish they would stop looking at me,” 
said the prince. 

“But they are hungry, while we have 
plenty to eat. Are you not sorry for them?” 
asked the little squire. 




52 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


The prince looked at the people and some¬ 
thing went through his heart. 

“If we had food we could give them 
some,” he said. “When I reach home perhaps 
I will command that food be sent them.” He 
was thinking then so hard of the poor peo¬ 
ple that he did not notice the change taking 
place in the little red jacket, nor that it was 
growing longer. On and on they rode. Now 
they were in sight of the town and far above 
it built on a high rock was the castle that 
was his home. 

“I cannot ride into town in this queer 
garment,” said the prince, “what would my 
people think?” They reined in their horses 
and stopped to consider when suddenly they 
heard a feeble cry from nearby. At the road 
side was a tumbledown hut, the door of 
which stood open to the cold wind. 

“It comes from here,” said the squire 
alighting, and going to the hut. The prince 
followed and they both peered in. On a heap 
of leaves covered with a scrap of blanket, lay 
a tiny child crying feebly. 

“Oh poor little one,” said the squire 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


53 



"Oh, poor little one,” said the squire. 


stooping over it in pity for he had a baby 
brother at home just the size of this mite. 
“He is cold,” and he began to strip off his 
little jacket to wrap about the baby, but be¬ 
fore he could do so the prince stopped him. 

“Wait,” said the prince, “take mine. I 
am dressed more warmly than you.” He 
pulled off the little red jacket and wrapped 
it about the baby and then they both saw to 




54 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


their amazement that the jacket was grow¬ 
ing into a lovely scarlet cloak. Its rich folds 
billowed to the ground about them. 

“Oh,” said the prince, “I cannot under¬ 
stand this cloak at all.” 

The little squire laughed. He felt that at 
last he was beginning to understand. 

“Let us take this child home and feed and 
clothe him. We will send and tell his parents 
where he is.” So they mounted their horses 
and the prince was going to carry the baby 
wrapped in the scarlet cloak before him on 
the saddle, but the squire said, “No wrap it 
about you and take the baby in your arm so 
you will both be warm.” 

“But then it will shrink again and we will 
both be cold,” said the prince, who at last 
had learned his lesson. 

“Only try it,” begged the little squire 
eagerly and he helped to wrap the warm 
garment about the prince’s shoulders. 

And now they saw that the cloak was the 
same beautiful garment it had been when it 
hung in the royal uncle’s wardrobe. 

“I know it now, I know it now,” said the 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


55 


little squire. “It is the Cloak of Unselfishness 
you are wearing. I have often heard of it and 
now you have earned the right to wear it!” 

“And the right person is anyone who has 
learned to be kind and unselfish,” said the 
prince as he wrapped the little baby more 
warmly. 

And so he came into his own town. 


—Used by permission of D . C. Cook Publishing Co. 








Some shears once lived in a work-basket. 
The work-basket was a pretty one, lined with 
gay flowered silk. Besides the shears there 
were several spools of thread, black, brown 
and white, a thimble, a tape measure, a lit¬ 
tle book with woolen leaves for needles, and 
an emery bag made to look like a ripe, red 
strawberry. 

There had been other scissors, two pairs 
of them, one small and one middle-sized, but 
they had been lost for a long time. Often 
the lady who owned the work-basket would 
poke her hand into it and then sigh, “Oh 
dear, these children. Why will they be so 
careless! I need my little scissors, but they 
are lost.” 


56 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


57 


One day, as often happened, a small fat 
hand was thrust into the basket. It felt 
about in the basket and then picked up the 
shears. It was the child’s small fat hand bor¬ 
rowing her mother’s shears to cut paper dolls 
with. 

“Oh dear,” said the shears, “when she 
takes me I never know when I shall come 
back again! She leaves me in the strangest 
places!” 

“Yes, indeed,” said the thread and the 
needles, “it is the same with all of us. She 
is so careless! Well good-bye shears. You 
may be lucky this time and come back.” 

“Good-bye,” called the shears as they 
were carried away in the little fat hand. 

The little girl’s paper doll family was 
growing fast. She cut them from magazines 
and kept them in a large wooden doll house 
that her brother had made for her. All the 
morning she snipped and cut, until there was 
a litter of paper all about her. She pasted 
pieces of cardboard on the paper dolls’ backs 
so they could stand up. Then while she was 
at it, “ting a ling,” jingled the lunch bell and 





58 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


she jumped up, brushed the scraps from her 
dress and hurried to lunch. 

Her mother came in. She had been shop¬ 
ping all morning and she had brought home 
some goods for a new dress for her little girl. 

“Oh, oh!” cried the child, “isn’t it beauti¬ 
ful!” 

And it was. It was a beautiful green and 
there was a spool of green silk to sew it with. 

“Tomorrow morning early I shall cut it 
out for you and if I am not delayed it will be 
done for Sunday.” 

The little girl was so excited that she for¬ 
got all about her paper doll family until the 
late afternoon when her mother asked her to 
clear up the corner of the room where she 
had been playing. Then she picked up the 
pile of loose paper and snippings and pushed 
them down into the deep waste-basket. 

Meanwhile the lovely green dress goods 
and the green sewing silk lay in the pretty 
work-basket. They had heard so much about 
what a lovely dress they were to be turned 
into that they felt very important. 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 59 



She had brought home some goods for her little girl. 


“I have always lived in a drawer with 
other spools of silk,” said the sewing silk. “I 
feel very much out of place here in this 
basket with spools of cotton.” 

“Yes,” added the dress goods. “It is 
strange to find oneself in surroundings like 
this. I have been living on a shelf in a great 
brightly lighted store, where I was often 
taken down and admired. But we mustn’t 
complain. No doubt we will be made into a 
dress that everyone will admire. After we 
are cut out and sewed everything will be 
different.” 

The spools of thread said nothing. These 
words had made them feel small and com¬ 


mon. 










60 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


But one of the needles, who was very 
sharp squeaked suddenly, “Well, if the scis¬ 
sors don’t come back, you will wait a long 
time before you will look any different from 
what you do now.” 

The emery bag was sometimes a little 
rough too and spoke up tartly, “No, you can 
never be a beautiful dress without the help 
of the shears and they went away this morn¬ 
ing with the careless child who has lost two 
other pairs which never came back.” 

The dress goods and the sewing silk fell 
silent at this. Perhaps they were worried. 

The next morning, bright and early, the 
mother came to the work-basket and picked 
up the green cloth and the sewing silk. Then 
she felt about in the basket for the shears. 

“Oh,” she said, “what has become of the 
shears?” Then she called the little girl. “Do 
you know what has become of the shears? I 
want to cut your dress out so you can wear 
it on Sunday.” 

“Why,” said the little girl, “I had them 
yesterday. Didn’t I put them back?” And 
she began poking about in the basket until 




61 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


the needles and the thread and the tape meas¬ 
ure were all a-snarl. 

“I can’t remember what I did with them,” 
she said at last. 

“But you must find them. They are all 
the scissors we have now, and if I have to go 
to town to buy others I will never have time 
to finish your dress,” her mother said in des¬ 


pair. 

The little girl puckered her forehead, and 
thought and thought. 

“Oh, yes, I must have left them with the 
paper dolls,” she said, and darted away to 
find them. But the paper dolls were stand¬ 
ing in their wooden house 
with never a sign of the 
shears about. 

“Oh dear,” said the little 
girl and puckered her fore¬ 
head again. 

She remembered picking 
up the papers and putting 
them in the waste-basket. 
Could she have thrown the 

The little girl puckered 

her forehead. shears away with the 





62 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


papers? She rushed to the waste-basket. It 
was empty. It had been emptied early that 
morning into the waste barrel. She ran as 
fast as she could to the waste barrel in the 
yard, but oh! it was empty too. The waste 
paper man had been around and taken all the 
papers. 

She started back to the house with trem¬ 
bling lips. She must have lost the shears. 
Why had she been so careless? Then she 
heard the clatter of a wagon and some one 
shouting “Whoa!” down the street. She ran 
to the gate. Far down the road she could 
see the fat old waste paper man. Without 
waiting another 
second she flew out 
of the gate and after 
him. 

“Wait, wait!” she 
called. “I think I 
have lost our shears 
in the waste paper. 

Won’t you please 
look for me?” 

W hen she saw She rushed to the waste basket. 






THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


63 


that his wagon was full of brown paper sacks, 
each one almost ready to burst with waste 
paper, her heart sank. But the waste paper 
man was good natured. 

“Well, now I’ll look,” he said, and puffing 
and panting he climbed over the seat into the 
wagon. “Let me see, this is the last bag I 
filled,” he went on. He turned the bag up¬ 
side down so that all the paper fell out on 
the wagon floor. He pushed his hairy brown 
arm through the papers and felt about while 
the little girl watched him eagerly. 

And then, oh joy! he pulled out some¬ 
thing bright and shiny. The lost shears! 

The little girl reached for them eagerly. 
“How can I ever thank you,” she said, “You 
don’t know how you have helped me. I know 
I’ll never be so careless again.” 

But the old waste paper man just laughed 
and stuffed the paper back into the brown 
sack while she ran home to her mother. 

“See, mother,” she called. “I’ve got the 
shears back, and truly I’ll never be so care¬ 
less again.” 




64 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


Then everyone was happy, even the work- 
basket things, for the shears had come back 
again. 

“Well,” said the beautiful dress goods to 
the green sewing silk, “We were not of much 
use without the shears, were we?” 

“No,” said the green sewing silk, “I sup¬ 
pose we are none of us much good unless we 
all work together.” 

—From “Mayflower,” published by The Pilgrim Press. 





HOW PETER RODE INTO THE 
VILLAGE 

Peter’s heart thumped with happiness 
and excitement. Whose wouldn’t? Spring 
was in the air and the hedges were blooming, 
the pink apple blossoms colored the orchards 
along the road, and best of all, he was going 
to town to see the prince ride by. 

The prince had been away for years and 
years, but now he was home and soon would 
mount the throne and take the place of his 
father, the king, who was old and tired, and 
wished to live in a small house with a gar¬ 
den. The young prince was handsome and 
brave and loved by every one. 

Peter would be happy just to stand in the 
crowds and see him ride by, smiling and 
kind. So he trotted along the road to town, 
sniffing the apple blossoms and the haw¬ 
thorns and the damp smell of earth. 

The village street was lined with crowds 
of people that jostled and shoved one another 


65 


66 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



“Oh, Peter,” they called, “come here ” 


good-naturedly. It was a holiday. Here was 
the whirligig man, and there the hot corn 
man, shouting his wares. Here was the sweet¬ 
meat seller, and there a man with trained 
birds that marched to the tune of his little 
fife. Oh, there was much to see! Peter 
found some of his friends, Jules and Victor 
and Gigi, the cobbler’s son, and several 
others. 

“Oh, Peter!” they called, “come here. We 
have a fine seat. There is room for you.” 

Indeed they did have a fine seat, high on 
a wagon, and there was just room for Peter 
to squeeze in. What a fine view he would 
have of the prince when he came riding by! 
Besides, he could see everything that was 











THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


67 


going on below—the crowds, the sellers, the 
little street shows. 

“We may have to sit here for a long time,” 
said Jules, “but better come early and not 
miss anything.” 

To this they all agreed. They sat there 
merry as crickets on a hearth, chirping and 
whistling and calling to the crowds below, 
and not missing any part of the show. The 
sun was hot and people began to put up 
their umbrellas, but the boys did not care. 
Peter’s eyes did not miss a single sight. 

The sun above grew hotter. It was get¬ 
ting toward noon. Surely the prince must 
come. Below them a sudden commotion 
caught their eyes. Dogs were barking and 
jumping about, each starting the other, as 
dogs will. They were barking at an old man 
who was winding his way through the 
crowds. He was old and gray-bearded. In 
his hand he carried an old green umbrella. 
Perhaps it was the umbrella that had started 
the dogs barking, but at any rate they barked 
and worried the old man until he hardly 
knew which way to turn. 





68 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



They were barking at an old man. 


“It’s your dog, Jules; call him off,” said 
Peter. 

But Jules was too busy piping on a penny 
fife to hear him. The dogs barked on, with 
Jules’ dog barking loudest at the old man’s 
heels, and every one was too busy craning 
their necks for a sight of the prince to bother 
with them. 

“I’ll stop them,” said Peter, getting ready 
to jump down. 








THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


69 


“You’ll lose your place,” warned Gigi. 

“I don’t care,” said Peter, but just then 
the old man disappeared into a shop, leaving 
his green umbrella outside, and Peter forgot 
him for a while. He forgot him until some 
time later he saw him come out of the shop 
and wind his way through the shouting, 
laughing crowds, and Peter saw that he had 
left his green umbrella standing outside the 
shop. 

“Oh,” thought Peter, a bit impatiently, 
“there he’s gone and left his umbrella.” 

He tried to forget it. He poked at Gigi, 
he tickled Jules. They laughed and pushed 
one another, but all the time Peter was think¬ 
ing of the old man. It was hot. Perhaps the 
sun would be too much for him. He looked 
very much like Peter’s dear old grandfather. 

Peter stood up and peered along the road. 
There he was, far in the distance. Peter 
might have time to run and give it to him 
before the prince came by. But if the prince 
came? Oh, he would hurry and get back! So 
Peter slid down off the wagon, and hardly 
had he touched the ground before another 




70 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


boy was up in his place. Well, never mind. 
He would find another. 

He caught up the green umbrella and be¬ 
gan to push his way through the crowds. It 
was hard. Now and then he would catch a 
glimpse of the old man, but he was always 
just beyond. He reached the end of the vil¬ 
lage street. There was the old man just at 
the bend of the road. The sun was very hot. 
Peter began to run. He thought he heard 
trumpets in the distance. Was the prince 
coming? Oh, he would surely miss him! 

He hurried faster and then just where 
the road dips down and the little river runs 
under a foot bridge he caught up with the 
old man. 

“Here is your umbrella,” Peter shouted 
breathlessly. “Here, take it please. I must 
go back or I will miss the prince. I hear the 
trumpets now.” 

The old man seemed very slow, very un¬ 
hurried, to Peter. He looked at him in sur¬ 
prise, and then a smile spread over his face. 

“Thank you, my boy, thank you. But 
wait a minute. You are hot and tired.” 





He caught up 


with the old man. 


71 











































72 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“Oh, no!” said Peter, “If I wait I will 
miss the prince, and I have always wanted to 
see him so much. There! do you not hear the 
trumpets? He must be riding through the 
village now. I am too late.” 

Peter could not help the tears that sprang 
into his bright blue eyes. 

“No,” said the old man, “you do not hear 
it right. It is coming this way, ” and just as 
he said it around the turn in the road came a 
horseman all clad in silver and pale blue. At 
his lips was a silver trumpet. And after him 
came another and another. 

“Oh,” breathed Peter, “here comes the 
prince!” 

Yes, there was the prince, riding a white 
horse whose gorgeous trappings of silver and 
rose almost swept the roadway. How 
straight he sat on his horse! How fine was 
his face! But what was he doing? He was 
leaping to the ground. He was kissing the 
old man’s hand! 

“My son,” the old man was saying fond¬ 
ly, “here is a village lad who has long desired 
to see you, but because an old man was for- 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


73 



He was kissing the old man’s hand. 


getful, he ran the chance of missing you and 
followed me far along this hot, dusty road. 
See that he reaches the village while I con¬ 
tinue my way to the castle. I wish to walk 
and think.” 

Peter was bewildered. He could scarcely 
believe his senses. This kindly old man was 
the king, who wished to give up his throne 
and live in a little house with a garden. No 
one had known him in the village and he, 
Peter, had run after him and shouted and 
begged him to hurry. Never mind, now Peter 











74 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



He was riding on the white horse before the prince. 


was being swung up into a saddle. He was 
riding on the white horse before the prince. 
The trumpeters were galloping before them 
and the gay cavalcade behind them. And so 
Peter rode into the village! 

—Used by permission and copyrighted by The Pilgrim Press, 



THE LITTLE WOODEN MAN 


“Woof!” howled the strong north wind. 

“Whir, whir, whir!” whistled the little 
wooden man on the peak of the barn gable as 
he spun round and round. “Oh, do stop a 
moment, Mr. Wind, till I can get my breath.” 

“Ha, ha, ha!” answered the north wind. 
“You must be getting old, wooden man.” 

The iron weathercock on the tip of the 
barn tower took a hand in the conversation. 
“Whee-ee!” he squeaked. “Isn’t he shabby, 
though? I’m really ashamed to have to be in 
his company all the time.” 

The weathercock was rather young; his 
glossy black painted coat shone in the sun, 
and his comb and bill and legs were so full 
of gilt that they glittered. When the wind 
blew hard he turned jauntily this way and 
that. 

“He is shabby,” the north wind agreed. 
“Still I can remember a time when his trous- 


75 


76 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



The little wooden man on the peak of the barn gable spun round and round. 


ers were bright blue and his coat red. He had 
a black hat on, and his face was rosy and 
bright. A little boy put him up there, years 
and years ago, Whoo-oo, woof!” 

As the north wind let out his breath in 
a mighty blast the little wooden man spun 
round and round, chattering and shaking. 
He heard everything that the other two said, 
and it made him feel friendless and alone. 

The weathercock swayed gently to and 
fro. “Look at the little wooden man,” he 
squeaked. “He is not a weather man; he 
whirls round and round. No one could ever 
get any information from him, the foolish 
fellow. Why don’t you blow him down, north 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


77 


wind? I tell you I’m tired of such shabby 
company.” 

The north wind was ever ready for a 
prank. “Shall I?” he said. 

“No, no,” clattered the little wooden man. 
“The children in the house down yonder like 
to watch me. The baby claps her hands when 
I whirl round, and the boy admires me. It 
was their father who put me up here years 
ago. 



Two children looked out of 
the windoiv. 


The north wind 
whistled. “Weathercock 
up there says you are so 
useless,” was the reply. 
“And he should know, up 
there in the high position. 
I blow about the world to 
clean it up; if you are use¬ 
less you might as well be 
blown down. Still I have¬ 
n’t time to waste on you 
to-day, I’ll be back to¬ 
morrow.” 

The little wooden man 
clattered in fear until, 





78 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


after a while, the north wind went away and 
he could breathe more easily. 

Two children looked out of the window 
of the little house that stood not far from 
the barn, a boy and a baby girl. 

“The wind has stopped,” said James, the 
boy, “I’m going to ask father to climb up and 
fix the little wooden man. He is so old that 
he wabbles about when the wind blows; I am 
afraid he will blow down some stormy day.” 

So while the baby watched from the win¬ 
dow and James stood in the barnyard and 
looked up, their father climbed up to the low 
peak of the barn. But instead of making the 
wooden man tighter he began to unscrew 
him. 

The little wooden man thought his end 
had come, “I’m no good,” he said; “no one 
wants me.” 

And the weathercock swayed back and 
forth in triumph, for he thought so too. 

But they were both wrong. When James’ 
father reached the foot of the ladder he 
handed the wooden man to the boy. 

“Take him, James. It’s time he had a 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


79 


rest. He has stood on the gable for twenty- 
five years, and his paint is gone and he’s 
pretty shabby. Perhaps he will amuse you a 
little.” 

“Oho,” thought the wooden man, “so 
that’s what I am good for, to amuse the 
children. I wish the north wind knew that.” 

James took the wooden man back into the 
house and showed him to the baby, “Just 
watch me, baby,” he said. 

He brought in his tool chest and began 
to work on the little figure. He glued the 
loose joints so that they 
did not creak at all. Then 
he found some paints. 

While the baby stood and 
looked on he painted the 
figure. 

“What is happening to 
me, I wonder,” thought 
the little wooden man. 

After a while he was 
laid on his back in a warm, 
sunny place. Then, sev¬ 
eral hours afterwards, 



He painted the figure. 



80 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


James came and picked him up and took him 
out into the yard. 

“Sam,” James said to the boy who milked 
the cows, “won’t you climb up to the gable 
and put this fellow back where he belongs?” 

Good-natured Sam put down his work 
and climbed the ladder with the little wooden 
man. He fastened the small figure carefully 
into place while James stood below and 
looked on with approval. 

As soon as Sam had climbed down again 
the weathercock turned around and stared at 
the wooden man. 

“Oho,” he said spitefully. “All dressed up 
in new clothes, are you? Well, your finery 
won’t do you much good when the north 
wind comes along this way to-morrow. Just 
you wait and see.” 

The little wooden man did not reply. He 
stood and gazed down at the cottage win¬ 
dow; his new clothes glittered in the bright 
sunlight—yellow hat, blue trousers, flaming 
red coat. He looked and felt very fine. 

The next morning the north wind came 
with a rush. 



THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


81 


“Look, north wind, look!” cried the 
weathercock. “Our friend isn’t shabby any 
longer, but he’s as useless as ever, for all 
that.” 

The north wind roared with laughter. 

“So, my fine fellow!” he cried. “All 
dressed up, I see. But what good are you? 
Tell me that.” 

“I amuse the children,” said the little 
wooden man. 

“Amuse the children!” echoed the weath¬ 
ercock. “Blow, north wind, blow as never you 
blew before, and teach this impudent fellow 
a good lesson.” 

“Woof, woof, woof!” roared the north 
wind. “Whoo-oo!” 

“Whee-ee!” squeaked the weathercock. 

“There’s no good reason for your being 
here, anyway,” said the north wind. Then 
he began to blow and blow and blow. 

He blew from the northwest, and he blew 
from the northeast, and he blew straight 
from the north. He blew long and steadily, 
and then he blew in sudden gusts and sent 
leaves and stray papers whirling far up into 




82 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



He blew long and steadily. 


the sky, until they were just black specks. 

“What a wind!” said the people to one 
another. 

The little wooden man whirled round and 
round and round until he was dizzy. He 
could not stop. 

But in spite of the tempest he stayed on 
the peak of the gable—strong and sturdy and 
safe because the little boy had mended him. 
The wind could not understand it; he be¬ 
came angry, and the angrier he grew the 
harder he blew. 

“A hurricane is coming,” said the people. 

The weathercock was whirling so fast 
that he could scarcely squeak. “Stop, stop!” 
he gasped at last. But the wind did not hear 
him. 







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“What a wind!” said the people. 


83 



















































84 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“Stop!” he cried again. Then there was 
a sudden snap and a clatter of iron. 

“Oh, oh!” cried the children at the win¬ 
dow. “The weathercock has blown down.” 

It was true. The wind went away howl¬ 
ing, after a while, but the weathercock lay 
broken and useless on the ground beside the 
barn. 

To-day the weathercock lies in the loft, 
forgotten. But the little wooden man still 
spins round and round in his shining red 
coat and yellow hat, high on the peak of the 
gable. 

—Used by permission of Youth 9 s Companion. 










THE WATER WHEEL IN THE WOOD 


One day in June a boy made a little water 
wheel and set it in a narrow stream that ran 
through a wood. 

' Turn, little wheel, turn!” he cried; and 
every day he would come down to watch it 
as it went round and round. One day he said, 
“I am going far away to live, little wheel; 
but some day I shall come back, and when I 
come you must be turning still.” 

Then he went away. 

All summer long the water tumbled and 
splashed over the tiny wheel. Round and 
round the little wheel went. “Splash, splash, 
splatter, splash!” the water sang, and the 
gay drops flew in the sun. 

When it rained, the water instead of sing¬ 
ing seemed to roar. Then the little wheel 
turned faster and faster, as if it would never 
go slow again; but as soon as the storm was 
over it would turn more slowly and begin to 


85 


86 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


sing in the sun. It turned all that summer 
and that autumn and through the winter 
that followed. When summer came again it 
was still turning. 

Now and then birds dropped beside the 
brook to drink. 

“Why don’t you stop and rest a while?” 
a sparrow asked. “Do you never grow tired?” 

“Oh, no,” said the little water wheel. “I 
am never tired. Besides, if I stopped I should 
feel that I was of no use in the world.” 

The bird preened his feathers. “Tweet, 
tweet!” he said. “Do you really think, little 
water wheel, that you are of any use, just 
turning and turning that way? You are too 
small to grind wheat or to move machinery. 
Why, you are only a plaything!” 

Then the bird flicked his tail saucily and 
flew away. He had not meant to be unkind, 
but he was a careless bird. His words set the 
water wheel to thinking. 

“Yes,” it said to itself, “I suppose I am 
useless. That wise little bird was probably 
right. Why should I go on turning and turn¬ 
ing all the time?” 






The children amused themselves by tying strings to chips and sailing the 

little boats. 


87 
























88 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


After that it seemed to move more slow¬ 
ly and to sing less and less. 

Toward the end of the summer a group 
of people came out from the city and had a 
picnic in the upper part of the wood where 
the stream ran swiftest. The children amused 
themselves by tying strings to chips and sail¬ 
ing the little boats, as they called them, in 
the brook. In the afternoon a storm came 
up, and the picnickers had to hurry home. 
The little boats, string and all, were left to 
go drifting downstream with the current. 

After a while the first boat came to the 
water wheel. It could not pass. Then came 
another and another until at last all were 
there, crowding and jostling together. 

By and by one of the strings caught in 
the wheel, and then another and another, un¬ 
til at last the paddle blades were wound full 
of string and all between them was a hope¬ 
less tangle. Then the little wheel had to 
stop. 

“Well, I wasn’t of much use to begin 
with,’’ it thought; and after that it became 
silent. 



THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


89 


“I want to dance!” called the shining 
water drop. “Turn, little wheel, turn!” 

But the wheel could not move. 

“Wheel, please turn,” begged the stream. 
“I want to go fast to the sea.” 

But the little wheel could not stir. 

“What has happened to the brook?” said 
the people who had lately moved to the house 
in the meadow below. “It does not make 
music any more.” They did not know about 
the water wheel that had helped the brook to 
sing. Then winter came, and they forgot the 
brook. 

“Turn, wheel, turn!” begged the brook. 
“It is growing so cold. I have never been 
frozen since you came and began to make the 
music that kept me dancing. Do not let me 
freeze now!” 

Then the little wheel tried its best to 
turn, for it loved the brook; but to no pur¬ 
pose; it could not move an inch. The air 
grew colder and colder, and the water, which 
could no longer dance, began slowly to 
freeze. Soon the brook was solid and hard, 
and the wheel was inclosed, in shining ice. 




90 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



“Lust winter we drank here” 


The chickadees and the blue jays, which 
were the only birds left, came down to the 
stream to drink, but the fountain was no 
longer open to them. 

“Last winter we drank here,” they said. 
“Why not now?” Then they flew sadly away. 

Spring came at last, with sunshine and 
warm south winds. The brook began to mur¬ 
mur a little, but it flowed so slowly that it 
seemed not to move at all. Then a strange 
thing happened. The water was so shallow 











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“Poor little wheel,” he said . 


91 




























92 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


and so still that rushes and other plants be¬ 
gan to push their tops above the surface. 
They grew taller and thicker, until, when 
June came, with its long, hot days, the lush 
growths had spread from bank to bank, and 
a green scum had formed below the wheel. 

“Help me, help me, water wheel!” cried 
the brook. “These weeds are choking me!” 

But the water wheel could not stir; it was 
almost covered with weeds itself. 

And then one day the boy came whistling 
through the wood, wild with joy to be in his 
old home again. He hurried to the edge of 
the brook. 

“Where is my water wheel?” he cried and 
ran up and down the bank until he caught 
sight of one edge of the little half buried 
wheel. Kneeling, he parted the water weeds 
until he came upon the clogging chips and 
the tangled strings. 

“Poor little wheel!” he said. “No wonder 
you could not move!” 

He picked out the chips and, pulling a 
knife from his pocket, cut the strings. Still 
the wheel did not move, so close the water 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


93 


weeds pressed against its sides. Then the 
boy took a long stick and forced the rushes 
down. Immediately the sluggish water 
started to flow, and the green scum began to 
drift downstream. Faster and faster the 
water flowed and then, as the current grew 
swifter and freer, the little wheel stirred. It 
moved with a hitch and a jerk at first, then 
more easily and smoothly. The water grew 
crystal clear and began to sing. 

Laughing with pleasure, the boy drew 
back to watch and listen. 

“The water wheel is turning again!” the 
happy drops cried, leaping. “See us flash in 
the sun!” 

“The water wheel is turning again!” cried 
the brook. “And I’m off to the sea!” 

A blue jay and a chickadee flew down to 
drink. 

“The water wheel is turning again!” they 
chirped. “We can drink here once more!” 

Another bird flew down and skimmed the 
water lightly with his wings. It was the 
same sparrow that had come before. “Tweet, 




94 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


tweet!” he cried. “The water wheel is turn¬ 
ing again!” 

“I am turning again! I am turning 
again!” the water wheel sang. 

And its voice was so full of delight that 
the listening boy said to himself, “There! I 
believe it will turn on now till the end of 
time!” 

—Used by permission of Youth 9 s Companion. 








It was because Robinet could do nothing 
but play very prettily on a little pipe, sing a 
few tunes, toss a tennis ball back and forth 
with some little skill that the king began to 
worry. He feared he would never learn to do 
anything useful and that would never do be¬ 
cause Robinet was the prince and some day 
would grow up to take his father’s place and 
be king of the land. 

But Robinet was not worried. 

“To be sure, sire,” he said to the king, “I 
am not learning much here, but just let me 
go out into the world for a few days and I 
will take care of myself and no doubt make 
my fortune into the bargain.” 


95 











96 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


The king threw back his head and 
laughed. Robinet had grown up within the 
castle walls and had been out into the world 
so little that the very idea of his boasting he 
could make his fortune was quite too funny. 

The young prince could see nothing 
funny in it. He was more in earnest than he 
had ever been before about anything, and 
he coaxed until at last after three or four 
days the king said he might try it. As 
Robinet insisted that he wished to go alone, 
he set out one fine morning from the castle 
arrayed in a fine new velvet suit, with sev¬ 
eral gold pieces in his pocket and his father’s 
blessing. Scarcely had he travelled a quarter 
of a mile, however, than the king regretted 
his promise to let him go alone and immedi¬ 
ately dispatched a squire to follow at a dis¬ 
tance. 

Robinet felt gay and free as he sniffed the 
warm air and looked at the blue sky stretch¬ 
ing over him. He was glad that he was 
bound for the big world to make his for¬ 
tune, but just how it was to be done he had 
no idea as yet. 





But the innkeeper looked at his fine suit. 


97 



























































































































98 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


At noon, being rather footsore, he was 
glad to find an inn at the roadside where he 
could buy bread and cheese and a mug of 
fresh milk. He asked the inn keeper if there 
was any work for him to do, explaining that 
he was out to make his fortune. But the inn 
keeper looked at his fine suit and soft white 
hands and could scarcely hide a smile as he 
shook his head. When Robinet bade him 
good-bye he gave him some good advice and 
a big red apple, and wished him luck on his 
way. 

Robinet plodded onward. It would 
hardly be true to say that there was not a 
little sinking feeling about his heart and 
that the task of making his fortune loomed 
a bit larger than it had when he fared forth 
from his father’s gates. At last he came to a 
cross roads. There sitting on a stone, rest¬ 
ing, was a boy of Robinet’s own age. The 
prince greeted him cheerfully and sat down 
beside him. He cut his apple in half with his 
jewelled handled dagger and gave one half 
to the stranger. And while they ate they 
talked. Robinet told the boy that he was out 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


99 


to seek his fortune and asked if there was 
any place he knew where he could begin by 
doing good honest labor. 

At this the boy looked at his fine suit and 
soft white hands much as had the inn keeper 
and finally said that if he wished to work he 
had better don something more useful to 
work in than a velvet suit. 

“I have worked for three years and I 
know,” said the boy. “I am on my way home 
now to my mother to help her as my father 
has fallen sick and cannot work. I was mak¬ 
ing my way very well too, and had a fine 
position,” he added. 

Robinet questioned him eagerly, “What 
did you do?” 

“I was dishwasher in the king’s kitchen, 
and was soon to be promoted to be the cook’s 
first assistant whenever some one could be 
found to take my place.” 

“A dishwasher!” exclaimed Robinet, “and 
you liked that?” 

“Oh, yes. The cook said I was the best 
dishwasher he had ever seen in the king’s 
kitchen.” 




100 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“Strange,” said Robinet, and was about to 
add that it was also strange he had never 
seen the boy before, but he caught himself 
in time. Still it was not strange for the castle 
halls were far removed from the kitchen and 
Robinet did not even know what the king’s 
cook looked like. So he said, instead, “Tell 
me about it. How is it done?” 

“Well,” explained the boy, feeling very 
important at being asked, “first of all you 
need plenty of good hot water and lots of soap 
so that the suds foam high. Soap suds are very 
pretty you know. Sometimes they look white 
and fleecy like those clouds up there, and 
then again they are all pink and pale green 
bubbles with little pictures swimming in 
them.” 

Robinet never knew that dishwater could 
be so interesting. “Tell me some more,” he 
begged. 

“Well, then you must rinse the dishes 
with very hot water that you get from the 
big copper kettle that hangs over the fire, 
and wipe them quickly on a clean linen towel 
and stack them up neatly.” 





THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 101 


And while they ate they talked. 

“And is that all?” said Robinet. 

“Almost all, but there is a little more to 
it. If you want it to be all fun you have to 
sing while you wash them. You must sing 
all the while, but one must be careful not to 
sing too loud, of course.” This he added a 
little thoughtfully. 

“It sounds interesting,” said Robinet at 
last, “Do you suppose I could do it?” 

The boy looked him up and down. “Oh, 
no doubt you could learn, but you could never 
do such work in that fine suit.” 




102 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


Robinet hugged his knees and thought 
and thought. Suddenly he laughed long and 
merrily, but though the boy eyed him curi¬ 
ously he did not explain why he laughed. 
Instead he offered to exchange his fine suit 
and cap and soft leather shoes for the brown 
smock and wooden sabots of the dishwasher 
boy. Although he was astonished the boy 
did not take long to accept his offer, and in 
no time at all was strutting about proudly in 
Robinet’s fine clothes, while Robinet had 
donned the smock and sabots. And the boy 
left him very shortly with a hurried good¬ 
bye, being afraid that Robinet might re¬ 
pent his bargain. 

Now although the prince was much 
changed still there were his soft hands and 
pale face to betray his high breeding. So 
remembering how people in his story books 
often disguised themselves by staining their 
hands and faces with walnut juice, he, 
climbed over a fence into a walnut grove 
where the first frost had set the nuts a-drop- 
ping. When he came back to the road again 
he was as brown as any gipsy. 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


103 


While he was doing this the squire, whom 
the king had ordered to follow him, passed 
along the road and seeing in the distance a 
figure clad in velvet suit and feathered cap, 
took it for the prince and followed on. 

But Robinet turned his footsteps the 
other way and followed the road that had 
brought him hither and with many a smile 
and a chuckle he took himself back to his 
father’s castle. 

It was nightfall when he entered once 
more the castle gates. 

“Give you good even,’’ he said politely to 
the guards, “can you direct me to the castle 
kitchen?” 

With a smile the guard pointed out the 
way to him and before long Robinet had 
reached the kitchen. There all was the wild¬ 
est confusion. The dishes had not been 
washed all day and the cook was trying to 
find enough clean ones on which to serve up 
the king’s supper. 

Robinet slipped up to the cook and in a 
small voice asked if he might have the posi¬ 
tion of dishwasher. Well the cook was so 



104 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


glad that he told him to start in right that 
minute. 

Now Robinet bethought himself of all the 
dishwasher boy had said and he dipped great 
ladlefuls of hot water from the copper kettle 
and poured them into a big pan that stood 
in the kitchen sink. And he dropped in big 
handfuls of soft white soap. He swished and 
swirled it around until it foamed high and 
higher and then he popped the dishes into 
the foamy suds and sloshed them around and 
around. He popped them out again and into 
a pan of clear hot water. He wiped them dry 
on a clean linen cloth that hung beside him 
on a rack and he stacked them up in great 
shining piles, still warm. But oh! how his 
arms ached when he had finished! Then sud¬ 
denly he remembered that he had forgotten 
to sing. 

Early next morning he was up and at his 
work again. This time he remembered what 
the boy had said, so he sang at the top of his 
lungs a song he made up because he could 
think of no other than suited the occasion. 
This is the way it ran: 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


105 



For two days the prince washed and sang as hard as he could. 


“Wishety, washety, the suds foam high, 
Dippety, doppety, handle’em spry, 
Wippety, wipety, now they’re all dry.” 

Well for two days the prince washed 
dishes and sang as hard as he could and really 
he quite enjoyed his work. 

Then alas, a squire walked into the 
kitchen one morning and said that the king 
commanded whoever was singing to stop it 
immediately, as for three days he had been 









106 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


waked from his morning’s sleep and his aft¬ 
ernoon nap. 

“But I can’t wash dishes well unless I 
sing,” argued Robinet. 

“Then there will be a new dishwasher in 
the king’s kitchen,” answered the squire and 
walked out with his nose in the air. 

Robinet stopped long enough to make a 
face at the squire whom he remembered as 
one he never had liked, and then went back 
to his work. But oh, how slowly it went. It 
was all work and no play and when he went 
to bed that night he wondered how long it 
would take him to make his fortune at the 
rate he was going. 

The next morning as he was swirling and 
sloshing the suds about in the pan he forgot 
the king’s orders and suddenly burst into 
song again. 

“Dippety, doppety,” he was warbling, 
when into the kitchen burst the squire in a 
thundering rage and said that the dishwasher 
must go to prison for three days for disobey¬ 
ing the king’s command. Three guardsmen 
followed him. 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


107 


“You can’t put me in prison,” shouted 
Robinet, “I’m the prince!” 

At that a great shout of laughter went up 
from the kitchen and the soldiers pounced on 
Robinet and carried him off to prison, kick¬ 
ing and biting and squirming in great style. 
When the door clanged shut after him he 
sat down on his hard cot and pondered upon 
how much easier it was to get into trouble 
than out of it. 

The hours passed slowly. So slowly that 
when the big clock on the tower boomed 
twelve Robinet thought it must be wrong 
for it seemed much later. There was nothing 
to do. He was glad when two guardsmen 
stopped under his window to pass the time of 
day for then he could listen to their conver¬ 
sation. What he heard made him sit up and 
listen closely. 

“Have you heard that the prince is lost?” 
said one. 

“Nay,” said the other, “Lost! How so?” 

“Well,” answered the first, “It seems that 
he went on some strange errand and has not 
returned. A squire was to have followed him, 





108 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


but instead of the prince he found that he 
was following a peasant dressed up in the 
prince’s clothes.” 

Another guardsman sauntered near and 
took up the tale, “The king is well nigh mad 
with grief and fear and has offered a chest 
of gold to whosoever can give him news of 
the prince or bring him back.” 

At this Robinet sat up straighter and 
pricked up his ears. A chest of gold to any¬ 
one who would bring back the prince. A 
fortune! 

He stood on his cot and shouted through 
the window. 

“Ho there, you loiterers! Tell the king 
that I can give him word of the prince!” 

The guardsmen hurried to his cell. They 
tried to question him, but not a question 
would Robinet answer, only demanding that 
his message be taken to the king. At last 
they sent word to the king of what he had 
said and very shortly there came orders that 
the prisoner should be brought before him. 

Robinet clattered down the long audience 
hall in his wooden shoes, glancing this way 








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Only demanding that his message be taken to the king. 


109 




























































































































110 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


and that at the familiar faces, but no one 
knew the brown faced boy in the old brown 
smock. 

He knelt before the king. 

“Speak up, boy, you say you have had 
word of the prince?” demanded the king. 

“Aye, sire, I can find him for you and that 
right soon.” 

“Well find him,” commanded the king,” 
and lose no time about it.” 

“First, sire, there are things I need.” 

“Anything, speak!” said the king. 

“A pan of water and a scrubbing brush.” 

“A pan of water and a scrubbing brush,” 
ordered the king. 

“A comb.” 

“A comb!” 

“And a good velvet suit and leather 
shoes,” finished the boy. 

All of these, quickly,” ordered the king. 

In double quick time the attendants had 
brought the various things. Then right there 
before the whole court Robinet began to 
scrub himself hard and the stain began to 
disappear from his face. Then he brushed 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


111 


his soft yellow hair and then while all stared 
in astonishment, he slipped out of the old 
smock and sabots and into the velvet suit 
and leather shoes. 

He stood up and faced the king. 

“Behold.” said Robinet, “the prince has 
returned. I have brought him back!” 

The king stared for one astonished mo¬ 
ment and then stepped down and folded him 
in his arms. 

But in a moment Robinet squirmed free. 

“Was there not an offer made,” he said, 
“to the one who should bring back the 
prince? and his eyes twinkled mischievously. 

The king looked puzzled for a moment 
and then with a loud laugh he ordered the 
gold to be brought to Robinet. 

Robinet picked up a few of the gold pieces 
and let them drop into the chest again. 

“Sire,” he said, “I have been out into the 
world, albeit not very far. I have washed 
dishes in your kitchen, which is a very useful 
occupation, and behold I have made my for¬ 
tune!” 



112 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


So they all laughed and the king vowed 
that Robinet was a clever boy and that he 
would no longer worry about him. 

But of the gold, Robinet gave some to the 
dishwasher boy who had taught him to be 
useful, and the rest to the poor. 

—Used by permission of D. C. Cook Publishing Co. 






RUNAWAY BUSTER BREEZE 

High up in the bright blue sky sat Mother 
Wind in her fluffy white cloud-house, and 
about her were all the little Breezes. They 
were learning their lessons, for it was 
Mother Wind who taught them all. 

“You must remember, children,” she was 
saying, “that there are many ways for little 
Breezes to blow, but you must learn the 
proper ways. You must learn just how hard 
to blow when you want to turn the farmers’ 
windmills, and just how hard to blow to dry 
the housewife’s washings, so that they will 
be white and clean.” 

The little Breezes sat and listened. They 
were all good little breezes, and wanted to 
learn to do just what was right. That is, all 
but little Buster Breeze. I am sorry to say 
that Buster Breeze did not like to go to 
school, and he really thought he knew just 
about all there was to know! 


113 


114 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


“I know all that,” he said to himself, as 
Mother Wind finished speaking. ‘‘Mother 
Wind can’t teach me anything I don’t know. 
She forgets that my grandfather is the North 
Wind.” Just then Mother Wind was called 
away a moment, and what did naughty Bus¬ 
ter Breeze do but slip out of the front door 
of the fluffy white cloud-house! The good lit¬ 
tle Breezes stared after him in speechless hor¬ 
ror and amazement. They had never dreamed 
of such naughtiness. 

Down toward the earth sped Buster 
Breeze. “I’ll show Mother Wind that I don’t 
need to go to school any more,” he said to 
himself. 

Below him lay a little village. Near the 
edge of it was a small brown cottage, the 
yard of which was hung full of fresh white 
clothes. The busy housewife had just hung 
them out to dry. 

“I will blow her clothes and dry them,” 
said Buster Breeze. 

He puffed out his fat little cheeks and 
blew as hard as he could. The clothes began 
to switch about in a strange manner. They 








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115 

































116 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



tossed and flapped and wrapped about the 
line. At last a long, white tablecloth was 
torn from the line and dropped down to the 
dirt beneath. 

Just then the housewife came running 
out. “Oh, oh, my nice clean tablecloth!” she 
cried, picking it up. “I will have to wash it 
again. It’s that horrid wind.” 

Buster Breeze was surprised. “Oh, well,” 
he told himself, “some people never appre¬ 
ciate anything you do for them. I’ll go some¬ 
where else.” 




THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


117 



Down the street in a shady yard sat a 
baby in his carriage. In his fat little hand 
he held a stick, to which was fastened a lit¬ 
tle paper pinwheel. He chuckled and gurgled 
as he waved it about. 

“I’ll blow his pinwheel,” said Buster 
Breeze, and he swooped down, blowing as 
hard as he could. Out of the baby’s hand it 
sailed, over the fence and into the next yard. 
He gazed after it a moment; then his rosy 
face puckered up, and he cried in loud wails. 

Buster Breeze looked at him a moment. 
“I must have blown too hard,” he said to 





118 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 



She had to cling to the fence. 


himself. “I don’t care, I can blow as well as 
the other breezes.” 

With a sudden gust he rushed down the 
village street. Before him flew a great cloud 
of dust. An old lady was coming down the 
street. The dust filled her eyes and throat, 
and she had to cling to the fence coughing. 

“My, what an awful wind,” she gasped. 

“What’s the matter with everybody!” said 
Buster Breeze crossly. 










THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


119 


A pretty bluebird was flying back to her 
nest with a worm in her bill for her young 
ones. She struggled against the great wind 
that Buster Breeze was creating. At last she 
reached the nest and dropped the worm into 
a little open bill. She had heard what Buster 
Breeze said and, because she was a bird, she 
could understand him. 

“It isn’t the people,” she called after him, 
“it’s you. You had better go back to Mother 
Wind until you have learned to blow right.” 

Buster Breeze pretended not to hear and 
went right on, but somehow it was not half 
as much fun as he had thought it would be. 

“I guess I’ll go back to the cloud-house,” 
he said to himself at last. “I wonder if 
Mother Wind will be very cross.” So very 
softly he crept back up to where Mother Wind 
sat all alone. 

“Well, Buster Breeze, have you come 
back?” she said, looking at him sadly. 

“Where are the other breezes?” he said. 

“Oh, they have finished their lessons and 
have just started down to earth to blow.” 




120 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


Buster Breeze looked ashamed as he 
crept up to kind Mother Wind. “I want to 
learn my lessons, too,” he said. 

—Used by permission and copyright by The Pilgrim Press. 









On a high hill grew a little pine tree. 
About him were other trees—oaks, maples, 
beeches and hickories. Every autumn the 
frost touched the leaves of all the trees 
around the little pine tree, and turned them 
red and yellow and brown. How proud the 
trees were then, and prouder than ever when 
the children came to the hill to pick up the 
leaves and carry them home to press and 
paste in books! 

“Just see this red and gold maple leaf!” 
a child would cry; or, “Oh, see this pretty 
121 







122 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


oak leaf! I am going to take it home to 
mother.” 

Sometimes they took whole branches and 
carried them home to brighten up the rooms. 
But they never stopped under the pine, for 
the pine had only long needles. 

The tree was very, very sad. ‘‘They can¬ 
not even use me for a Christmas tree, as they 
do my cousin, the hemlock,” he murmured to 
himself. 

One fall a tiny seed fell at the root of the 
pine tree. When spring came it lifted up its 
head from the ground and looked around. 

“Who are you?” asked the pine tree. 

“I am woodbine,” answered the little 
stranger. “I must have some¬ 
thing to climb on or I can¬ 
not grow to be a strong and 
healthy vine. Dear pine 
tree, may I not climb about 
your sturdy trunk?” 

“I am afraid you will 
grow so strong that you will 
choke me,” answered the 
pine tree, but he spoke very 









THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


123 


gently, because he was lonesome and really 
wished to have a friend. 

“Oh, no! I will not choke you. I will 
cling to your trunk and branches and keep 
you warm, and we will be good friends,” 
whispered the woodbine. 

So the pine tree welcomed the woodbine, 
and the vine grew and grew. The pine tree 
and the woodbine loved each other, so that 
the pine tree told the woodbine many of his 
secrets, and especially why he was so lone¬ 
some and sad. He told how the children 
never stopped beneath his branches. 

One year the woodbine said to the pine 
tree, “Do not grieve any more; this year it 
will be different.” 

The pine tree wondered what his friend 
meant. The woodbine had climbed to his 
highest branches and mingled its leaves with 
the pine needles. All summer the branches 
of the pine tree and the leaves and strong 
shoots of the woodbine swayed together in 
the wind. 

When autumn had come and the trees 





124 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


about them turned red and orange and yel¬ 
low, one day the children came to the hill. 
The pine tree heard their shouts. A shiver 
ran through his branches and his sadness 
returned. 

Suddenly a child shouted, “Oh, look at 
the pretty, pretty pine tree! He is all cov¬ 
ered with red leaves. How pretty that red is 
with his green needles!” 

“What are they talking about?” asked the 
pine tree. 

The woodbine rustled a little laugh. “See, 
brother; my leaves are very red. I have cov¬ 
ered you with a red cloak.” 

It was true. The scarlet leaves of the 
woodbine had mingled with the dull green 
of the pine tree’s branches, and were brighter 
than the leaves of the oak or the maple or the 
beeches around them. 

“But it is not I that am beautiful. It is 
you,” murmured the pine tree. 

“It is you. You befriended me and I have 
made you beautiful. See! the children love 
you.” 







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125 
















































126 


THE JOLLY LITTLE CLOWN 


It was true, for the children were break¬ 
ing off branches of the green pine to which 
the strong shoots of the woodbine clung. 

“We will take them home,” they said. 
“Did you ever see anything so beautiful?” 

—Used by permission of and copyright by Pilgrim Press. 



















































































































































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